Chapter 16. Pastries and the Plea

Self-preservation, nature's first great law,
all the creatures, except man, doth awe.

- Andrew Marvell

Given the opulent view it provided and the esteem of our guest, breakfast was held in the formal dining room. Although the spread included fruits, a green and purple salad, and fish (which Anakin tried once out of politeness), Teckla had a specialty when it came to baking. Silver platters with round and oval pastries emanated mouthwatering aromas that enthralled our senses. Almost all of the creamy, baked treats were shaped in the mimicking style of shells commonly found on the beaches of the Lake Country. Perhaps Teckla had been inspired by my sister's work with my hair, or she and Sola were just coincidentally cut from the same creative-design cloth.

The day was lovely and warm, and I was dressed in an airy, blue-green dress that echoed the colors of the lake outside. My hair was done up in a braided crown around my head, complete with a curled train descending down the middle of my back. Anakin had left the heavy robe of his Jedi uniform elsewhere, and his tan looked as radiant as ever in the beams of the sun.

Once we were settled in our seats— Brother Luke and I sitting opposite each other while Anakin sat at the rounded end of the table to my right— the holy man and I engaged in casual catching-up as we all served the food offerings onto our plates. Anakin stayed quiet for the most part as we briefly touched upon topics and people he had no knowledge of.

Eventually, I inquired, "Does the Blue Streak still fly?"

At a question like this, Anakin's eyebrows perked up. Any conversation which involved ships or acceleration in general had his attention. "Is that your speeder?" Brother Luke and I shared a pair of knowing, amused smiles. The young man looked between us at the obvious exchange. "What?"

Brother Luke chuckled. "It's my wagon cruiser. It's not meant for flying great heights above the ground, but it'll hover over the road smoothly enough. The cargo bed in the back has proved to be quite handy for transporting parishioners, and even once, a sick baby shaak."

"I can't believe it still runs. It was a relic when I was a child," I teased, good-naturedly. "It has one speed, Ani. It may as well be on wheels."

Anakin's face blanched.

"Quick as a blink, it is," Brother Luke grinned. "By an old man's standards, at least. It runs on the most basic, uncomplicated, and rudimentary technology one can have without having to contend with axles and wheels."

I shook my head and smiled. "You could not be speaking Anakin's language any less. For him, the more moving parts to decipher and puzzle into place the better. He likes a challenge."

Besides me, Anakin's face went from uninterested to approving. "The lady knows me."

"Are you a mechanic as well as a Jedi, Anakin?"

"Yes— though it drives my master a little crazy. When I'm not actively training or studying like I'm supposed to, I'm often designing prototypes for droids. I've gotten into trouble more than once for, um," he blushed, but then grinned impishly. "Well, I thought the droids around the Temple could use some upgrades. So, I— my master used the word 'kidnapped', but I think that was extreme— took them to my room and worked on them until I thought they were up to par."

My eyebrows rose slightly at this, but pleasantly so. The information was not necessarily surprising— at his words, I remembered the impressive protocol droid he'd built on Tatooine. All the same, the amusing anecdote painted a clearer picture of the Ani I had not been able to know over the past ten years. Refraining a laugh at the image of the great Masters reactions to all this, I asked, "Others did not approve?"

"Well," Anakin smirked. "My logic was sound— at least I thought so. My mistake was in being too ambitious and collecting as many droids to work on as I could all at once. Cleaning droids, cafeteria droids— whatever I could fit or hide in my room; I had 'em stashed up to the ceiling. But even I hadn't realized how integral they are to the operation of the Temple, or how many janitorial tasks they do— for instance, the maintaining the bathrooms— and it caused a, ah." A casual shrug. "Well, let's just say the management of the Jedi Temple broke down for a day or two."

Now barely hiding a wide grin behind the back of my hand, I questioned, "How old were you?"

"Twelve." He grinned even bigger at my plainly obvious enjoyment of his tale. "I was sentenced to three full days in the meditation chambers, and I was," he winked, "cured."

Cured. Right. And I'm Master Yoda's long-lost daughter.

Even through continued chuckling, Brother Luke was studying Anakin too. "You look like a man who likes to chase the air," he announced, quite astutely. "Ever dabbled in any piloting?"

"Oh." With a suave rotation of his hand, Anakin swirled the juice in his glass like a casino owner on the lower levels of Coruscant. "I've dabbled." On our side of the table, the youngest and only human winner of the Boonta Eve Classic gave me a not-so-subtle wink again.

I attempted to hide my ridiculous grin behind a bite of a pastry.

"Well," Brother Luke replied, with buoyant demeanor. "I myself am an old man with an old back, living in a village with scant resources available. I keep things simple with my technology, and I do find I get by much easier that way."

Anakin's forearms came on to the table. "So, your wagon has no engine at all?"

A light laugh as Brother Luke reached for the bowl of shura fruit. "Not exactly. I am old-fashioned, not prehistoric. There's a propulsion thingy underneath that propels it forward. Otherwise, I would need an animal in front to pull it." He used the fruit on his fork to point in my direction. "I used to load the Naberrie girls into the wagon on their visits here. Together, we'd pass out food baskets in the village."

Anakin looked at me with a smile, and I nodded as I dabbed at the corner of my mouth with a linen. "My father wove the baskets, and my mother organized the bundles of food into them."

"Padmé here would even bring toys and trinkets for the children as well. Not just a general lot of toys, mind you. She would specialize them to suit the individual children they were meant for."

Warm eyes regarded me fondly. "That sounds like Padmé."

I turned the conversation back to the original topic. "Despite the scant resources, your minimalist methods obviously still work, Brother Luke. The Blue Streak still runs," I proclaimed proudly, with a pointed nod of my chin.

"That it does, that it does." Brother Luke's gaze turned back to the young man on his left. "Tell me, young Anakin, what brings a Jedi to Varykino?"

"Security." Anakin wiped at his mouth with his napkin. "Actually, we need to discuss this." He looked to me in silent communication, and I nodded, trusting him to take the lead in the coming conversation. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Brother Luke, but, well, no one can know you were here."

"At Varykino?"

"I misspoke. More specifically, no one can know Padmé was ever here."

Brother Luke looked between us, his gaze hovering on me. "I don't understand."

I remained mute, faithfully allowing Anakin to continue.

"Officially, she's still on Coruscant. Unofficially, we are here in hiding. There have been attacks on her life. While my master searches for those responsible, I'm here to ensure no harm comes to her."

I spoke up to give due credit. "I wouldn't be alive if not for Anakin. He saved me from an assassination attempt in my Coruscant apartment."

"Thank the Gods for that," Brother Luke breathed. "I assure you; no one will know I was here, nor that I am aware of the Senator's whereabouts."

"Did you mention it to anyone before you came?"

"No, I was en route home when I received the invitation, and your guardsman in the water speeder today was the first being I'd spoken to since."

Anakin nodded, satisfied.

Brother Luke's concerns, however, were still rattled. "They've actually tried to kill you, Padmé? Not that there is any justifiable excuse— there could never be— but why would anyone think to do such a thing?"

A low sigh escaped me. My chin rested on my hand, which was propped up on the table by my elbow. "The Jedi have their theories." I decided now was not the best time to bring up Master Windu's belief that disgruntled spice miners on the moons of Naboo were behind it. "I have mine." The theory starts with a 'D' and ends with a 'u'.

Anakin put me under his intense gaze. "Nothing will happen to her while she's with me. I've promised I will keep her safe."

With a grave nod, Brother Luke replied, "It seems she's lucky to have you, Anakin. We all are."

After this, a heavy silence sat between us as we each ate bits of our food.

Anakin finally broke the quiet. "Padmé mentioned you had some interest in meeting a Jedi for the first time."

A rascal's expression crossed Brother Luke's face, accompanied by a slight head tilt. "Said that, did she?"

Two pairs of eyes rested on me. With a tad of embarrassment, I realized I'd never actually heard Brother Luke express such a sentiment, but I also hadn't expected Anakin to quote my words to him. "It's just that I've heard you mention them in conversation over the years. I took it as an innocent interest."

Anakin, picking up on something I did not, turned his chin to regard the older man. There was a brief pause. "I'm not the first Jedi you've met." His voice was even and clear. It was a statement, not a question.

Brother Luke's demeanor transformed into something more sincere. "Indeed. But although it was a fateful moment of my life, I cannot remember my original encounter with a member of your Order. I do admit, the Jedi have always held my fascination." He eyed us both. "How could they not, when I was so close to being an Initiate myself?"

I sat up straighter in my chair. This was the first time I'd heard of this. Anakin's expression did not equal my own level of surprise, which I sought to clarify by asking, "You were screened by the Jedi?"

The face opposite me gave a nod bereft of any artificiality. "My midi-chlorian count registered high enough to land me on their radar," he waved a lightly dismissive hand, "but nothing notable enough for them to push hard for my recruitment. My blood test came back just barely on the line. Nevertheless, they extended the offer to my parents to take me to Coruscant to live in the Jedi crèche and let my fate be decided there. I imagine I would've ended up in the Temple library or tending to the gardens alongside Anakin's droids. As you can see, that did not happen."

Anakin took over asking the questions. "Why didn't you go with them to be trained?"

"Oh, that's a story. Essentially, it came down to my parents saying no."

"Your parents kept you from training?"

Brother Luke frowned slightly. "Kept. That word has a connotation to it I would not choose to apply. They said no, true, but I'm forever grateful they did. I mean no offense, but I would not have wanted the life of a Jedi."

The man who'd not only dreamed of being a Jedi since he was old enough to know what one was but who'd walked away from his own mother to pursue that dream peered at Brother Luke, bewildered. "Why did they say no?"

"My parents loved me very much and knew they could provide me with a good home, a good life. I had an older brother and sister who were already very attached to me; it would have broken all their hearts for me to leave."

Anakin's face showed that he did not accept this answer. "Is it not the bigger show of love to sacrifice their own desires so that you may pursue your calling?" His voice had a slight defensive edge to it. Hearing it, I gently bit down my bottom lip. It wasn't difficult to imagine why the explanation touched one of Anakin's sensitive nerves.

Brother Luke tilted his head. "You judge them," he replied, albeit with unbothered kindness. "As I said, there's a story behind it. The short version is my parents did not immediately refuse the Jedi; they took time to consider the choice before them. Ultimately, I cannot speak for them— I can only be forever grateful that they reached the decision that they did."

"May I ask why?"

A wide, serene smile stretched its way across Brother Luke's face. "Love." He reverently let the word hang in the air for a poignant moment before he continued. "Meesha. She was the sweetest and most beautiful flower Naboo has ever produced. I met her shortly after I took my initiation vows. In time, I had the honor of being her husband."

Anakin balked. "Your Order allows for romantic partners? Marriage?"

"Oh, yes," Brother Luke answered. "It is not the norm, but some of us have wives, even children. Most do choose the solitary path, but there is not a mandate." A cloud of sadness transformed his smile into something wistful. "My wife was my compass. I treasured her in what would be the happiest years of my life. I continued to cherish her through her sickness until the day she died." Slowly, he placed a weathered hand on his chest, just over a heart that beat with history. "I carry my wife's memory and love with me to this day. I do not have the privilege of being able to say we were married long before she died, but I wouldn't trade my time with Meesha for anything— even to have studied under the great Master Yoda himself." He smiled softly at Anakin's contemplative expression. "I wouldn't expect a Jedi to understand."

Blue eyes abruptly flashed in my direction, locking with mine. Forgetting the table, our company, and even the instinct to breathe for a moment, I held his gaze; at last, I broke away to meet Brother Luke's.

He was studying us carefully.

Thankfully, just then Nandi walked into the room with a pitcher of freshly brewed caf. She made a quick but neat circle as she refilled our mugs, each of us thanking her in turn. After a few seconds, Brother Luke continued. "There was a time when my close-encounter with the Jedi— however lost the memory was— prompted my curiosity to learn more about them. I found the Azeloo Brotherhood and the Jedi share many similarities— a respect for life, nature, for the natural flow of things. We, too, want to see peace and cooperation throughout the galaxy. We differ in the details, of course: what you call the will of the Force, we credit as the will of the Natural Gods. The names are different, but the idea is mostly the same. But the Jedi Order maintains a steadfast rule on relationships which— because of my time with Meesha— I cannot support."

The two men stared at each other in unspoken understanding, as if this absolute rule need not be said aloud. Less confident than my assuming counterpart, I endeavored for clarification, looking at Brother Luke to continue. "Which is?"

Anakin answered for him. His voice was low, unenthusiastic. "Attachments." After his reluctant utter, he switched gazes to look into my eyes, a wealth of emotion swirling within them. "We are taught to love others, but not to get attached to them."

{Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So, you might say we are encouraged to love.}

I would be thankful later for the conversation at this table. While weighing the pros and cons of entering into a forbidden marriage contract, one reserves the right to know what they are entering into with eyes wide open.

At the present moment, my mind chewed over this information even while my teeth condensed a piece of fruit. An "unattached Jedi" was not even close to being the first phrase I would've chosen to describe Anakin Skywalker.

I hadn't expected to dive into the intricacies of Jedi philosophy at our breakfast table, but they'd been admittedly on my mind more than usual the past few days. "Can such a thing be taught?" Genuinely curious, I probed Ani's eyes. "How does a mentor teach where to draw the dividing lines in a person's instinctive humanity?"

He didn't reply, except to look to Brother Luke. The holy man reacted by leaning back in his chair, as if to physically communicate his abstaining as he said, "I refer to the actual Jedi for this one."

Anakin shifted in his seat. Tentatively, he met my eye again. "Well. There is a reason why Initiates are taken into the Order as infants and toddlers."

"Ravel, no, Rael Averross?" Brother Luke phrased the words as a question to the man beside him. At Anakin's confirming nod, he continued, "The very oldest Initiate to be accepted into the Order in its history." He paused, as if for dramatic effect to drive their point home. "He was just five."

"No," Anakin countered, his head rising from the dipped position it was in before. "Another was nine."

Brother Luke shook his head disbelievingly. "I don't mean to dictate your own Order's record to you, Anakin, but that can't be. I cannot imagine…" His voice trailed off as he took in the look on the younger man's face. Thinning, silver eyebrows twitched, and the holy man's eyes veered to meet mine before returning to the original pools of blue.

An awkward silence permeated the air. I swallowed a small bite of shura fruit and reintroduced my guest to my bodyguard. "Brother Luke, this is the Anakin Skywalker who flew a Nubian fighter jet into a Federation ship ten years ago. Afterwards, he became a Jedi Padawan."

The Hero of Naboo. Fregor Antilla wanted a photoshoot with Ani before he'd been sent on his way with a Jedi mind trick. My well-meaning sister excitedly recounted what she knew of his exploits at the table. How would Brother Luke react to the realization he was dining with one of the most famous figures from the Invasion's resolution?

I watched as the lines in the holy man's face settled into a compassionate if somber expression. With a small, grandfatherly smile, he quietly said, "Naboo owes you a debt of gratitude, but war zones are no place for children. I celebrate you, young Skywalker, but I fear we should not celebrate the making of heroes at so precious an age."

Anakin's eyebrows pinched together, but he nodded in solemn agreement. His attention dropped down to his plate, where his fingers moved around a small trio of beige pastries without picking any up. After a pause, he cleared his throat. "You were sharing your thoughts on the distractions of love and attachments, Brother Luke?"

Obligingly, our guest replied, "Well, love has not been a distraction. For me, it has been a key— a blueprint. In my calling with the Brotherhood, I feel I am guided by love, not restrained by it. I believe I serve my parishioners better by my deep attachment to them." He stretched a hand on the table in Anakin's direction, leaning forward to emphasize, "I do have the highest respect for your Order, Anakin, and I am certainly not speaking for their laws which have seen them through many, many eras. I can only speak to my own life's path. It's quite possible that knowing from a young age I was almost adopted into your Order influenced my seeking out another form of public service, religion, and community. For a time, most wonderfully, it also led me to a great love, one that has lived on even with the passing of my wife." He lifted a shoulder. "The point is, I like to think whatever Force insight I have has crafted me into a more effective spiritual leader— someone who can tend to emotional wounds with heightened empathy."

Anakin nodded. "Your Force ability enables you to read people with quicker and better clarity. You knew I was a pilot without me even saying so." He gave his almost-brethren a soft smile. "I believe you would have been a credit to the Jedi, Brother Luke."

At this, the old man grinned. "Well, the pilot guess wasn't hard— you are a credit to your name, young Skywalker. But thank you. Perhaps, in another life, I pursed that path, but the strict limits of the Jedi Order are the makings of a life I do not regret missing. I've valued the freedom to love Meesha as much as I've been grateful to pursue my spiritual calling. In my humble opinion, it is unfortunate Jedi cannot have both."

Perhaps, if I had simply looked at Anakin a little closer, I would've seen those last words go in one of his ears and float right out the other.

Brother Luke brought his mug to his lips, but he paused as he lingered his twinkling eyes on the Jedi. His boyish mood had returned. "Thought I was just bad jokes and a funny hat, did you?"

"Not quite." Equally mischievous eyes sparkled. "I like your jokes." Laughter graced the air, and the serious mood was officially, finally broken. Our eyes and hands returned to the treats in front of us with renewed vigor. As he reached over the plate of fish to help himself to a shell-shaped pastry, one which looked a lot like how my hair had been styled the day before, Ani inquired, "What services do you exactly perform in the area, Brother Luke?"

"Well, interestingly, I'm a part-time veterinarian for the village. For my human flock, I provide counsel to those who seek it. Weddings, name ceremonies, the like; my most cherished duty is to come bless the newborns. From time to time, of course, funerals."

We were slicing the fruits and pastries on our plates and sipping our drinks. In between bites, Anakin casually responded, "Hopefully, not too many of those."

Brother Luke's smile receded. "Unfortunately, I will be overseeing such a service later today. That is why I could not join your splendid table any later, Padmé. A young lady is being put to rest with her ancestors on Edum Bloom. Her body was just returned from Coruscant."

My eyes suddenly focused on my plate. I became very still.

Anakin continued on, thus far unaware of the way my hands and the utensils they held had frozen mid-slice over my fruit. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know the family well?"

In my periphery, I saw Brother Luke shrug slightly. "Yes and no. The extended Calamine family maintains a residence in the region for when they like to visit, but— like the Naberries here— the younger generations moved on to Theed a long time ago. I met with her parents yesterday. It's tragic, really. I don't know all the details, but it seems the poor lady died quite suddenly— and violently."

I only realized I'd dropped my fork and knife when they loudly collided with the sides of my plate. I immediately felt Anakin and Brother Luke's eyes on my face, but I couldn't have cared less about the unladylike disruption.

My voice was low and hushed. I knew the answer before I asked for it, but I had to hear it out loud. "Are you administering burial rites for Coryn Calamine today?" My eyes flashed up to canvas the gray ones opposite mine.

"Coryn?" Anakin asked, perplexed.

I didn't move my dedicated gaze from Brother Luke's face as I explained, "Cordé's name before she entered my security detail and changed it to sound like Padmé."

Brother Luke's eyes bounced back and forth between Anakin and me. With a befuddled voice, he asked, "Did you know the young lady?"

The hated, familiar wave of tears that I'd been fighting since my handmaiden died in my arms announced its roaring presence with a squeeze of my chest and pressure behind my eyes. The explosion, the smell of burnt starship and bodies, the chill from the fog— it all came rushing back. Even my elbows seemed to ache painfully in memory from cushioning my body's fall to the unforgiving landing platform.

{My lady, so sorry…}

"Yes," I replied, but so quietly that I had to add a nod of my head after to ensure he'd understood my answer. "She was my handmaiden, my bodyguard," I paused, swallowing to open my clamped throat. These titles didn't do Cordé justice. "She was my friend."

Anakin spoke up now to aid my explanation. "Cordé sacrificed her life during an assassination attempt as a decoy. It heavily factored into Padmé going into hiding."

I got to the point quicker than he did. "She was murdered."

Brother Luke was obviously still puzzled. At my continued stony face, he directed his question to Anakin. "But I thought you stopped the assassination attempt on the Senator's life?"

Anakin shook his head dismally. "I was assigned after the first attack."

Important details fell into place behind my silent disposition very quickly. The course of action was obvious, it was just a matter of asking the favor of Brother Luke. The words hovered on the cusp of my lips. I couldn't believe he'd say no, and then Anakin and I…

Anakin.

Just barely in time, I remembered the previous day's impassioned conversation with my bodyguard— in this very room— before the request to Brother Luke escaped my anxious throat. Adamant that I would not be deterred but faithful to the pledge I'd made him, I turned to the Jedi on my right. "Anakin, may I speak with you outside?"

He was watching me with a concerned look, but he wordlessly rose and followed as I led us swiftly out the patio door.

We were barely a few steps across the balcony when I pointed towards a large peak northwest of our location. "Anakin, Edum Bloom is a cemetery 20 km on the other side of that mountain." It wasn't near, but it wasn't necessarily far either.

I looked at him over my shoulder. His forehead was a mess of lines as his focus switched back and forth between the mountain and me. Either through his heart or his Jedi instincts, I suspect he already knew where this was heading. "Is it?"

I turned to face him fully. I'd found my clear, strong voice again.

"I want to attend Cordé's funeral."

His eyes narrowed. "That's not a good idea."

"Anakin. Please—"

He held his hands up, palms facing me in a cautionary stance. "We can't possibly know how many are coming to pay their respects. Everyone on this planet knows your face. We'd have to trust that every single person who sees you doesn't leak your whereabouts, even accidentally. I can't take that chance."

"They'll be focused on the family and on Cordé," I countered. "And even if I am recognized, I can't imagine anyone would put two and two together and alert the HoloNet! Anakin, be reasonable."

He paced away from me, his long legs taking him to the other side of the landing in a matter of seconds. "This is a lot more than three house servants who have proved their dedication over several years and a holy man coming over for breakfast." He abruptly stopped his methodical walk and looked at me gravely. Hesitantly, he ventured, "Do you know how the family feels about their daughter's death in your service?"

My lips parted in a quiet gasp. I knew what he was asking. He'd wounded me with just the implication. "I spoke with her parents myself the day she died. They gave no indication of anger or resentment towards me."

He regarded me apprehensively. "It's my job to consider that maybe they've changed their minds."

I wanted to push his words away, but I blamed myself enough for Cordé's death that the dark thoughts had crossed my mind that perhaps her loved ones did as well. I tried to challenge, "Anakin, you're being nonsensical." I let out a breath that escaped from the very bottom of my lungs. "And hurtful."

He rapidly crossed the distance he had built between us and placed his hands on both sides of my upper forearms. Cobalt eyes stared into mine urgently. "I don't mean to hurt you. Please, believe that." He hesitated. "But Padmé, you're asking me to sign off on a mountain excursion with no prior scouting, no prior knowledge of the terrain, no idea who will be there, and no guarantee that none there hold you responsible enough to out your presence on Naboo." His hands squeezed me more tightly. "Your caring reputation precedes you. If I were the bounty hunter and I didn't buy that you're still on Coruscant, Cordé's funeral would be the first place I'd look."

I roughly brushed his hands off of me. In a normal state, I would've heard his sound reasons for the concerning notes they were, but all I could see him as now was as an obstacle in my way. My voice rose in what had become our second passionate argument in two days. "Where is this abundance of caution coming from? Where's the man who told me he leaped out of a speeder and fell through Coruscant's traffic lanes on nothing but a good hunch? I thought you were some adventurous, fly by the seat of your pants Jedi!"

His eyes blazed as his own emotions flared up. "I'm not when it comes to your safety!"

I took a step closer towards him, the heat between us growing with dangerous fire. "You prevented me from going to the memorials at the embassy— both of them! You asked me to stay at my apartment instead of doing what work I could have on Coruscant, and I stayed! You and the Jedi and the Chancellor told me to leave, and I left!" At the threatening onslaught of angry tears, I swallowed, desperately trying to reign in my intensity. Even through my frustration and ire, the closer I got to Anakin, the more I was inexplicably drawn into him. Losing my grip on my emotions undid the practical barriers instilled that made me keep my distance from him. Relinquishing into the magnetism a few precarious inches, I took one more step closer. Although I stopped the action, my hand wanted to cup itself around his cheek as I searched his eyes again and said, more softly, "I told you I won't do anything else without your support and involvement. I meant it. Please, Ani. I need you to understand why I need to do this."

I watched as Anakin steadied himself too, taking several deep breaths. I was near enough to see the line of his dimpled chin up close, and to take in the dark flecks in his eyes. His pupils were growing and retracting with almost alarming speed, as if my immediate presence was making it difficult for him to think clearly. His voice was soft but intent. "It's not that I don't understand." He tried to counter me through logistics. "But we don't even have the right transportation. It's too far to walk, and we can't exactly water speed our way up a mountain."

Luckily, I was already prepared with an answer. "Brother Luke's wagon cruiser. If we wear cloaks and keep our hoods on, we'll for all purposes be invisible if we pass anyone on the roads. He's taxied parishioners before— no one will think to ask questions." Anakin hedged for just a barely perceptible moment, so I kept going. "We'll keep our hoods on at Edum Bloom and stay in the background. I'll approach no one." Even though I had to push myself to say it, I added, "Even her parents."

"Padmé…" Anakin gazed down at me with a tortured expression, so much so that I felt bad for putting him in this position. His eyes left mine to look back at the mountain beyond my head. "20 km?" He shook his head. "Why here?" He looked down at me again. "Why would she be buried here?"

Given what I knew of Cordé's elite background, the reason wasn't all that surprising. "The Lake Country wasn't always remote. Many ancestral families of Naboo settled here first, long ago. They eventually relocated to Theed and other urban areas when commerce spread, but the land is still very sacred to them. There are cemeteries and tombs with their ancestors throughout the lower lands around the lakes." Even the Naberries had a graveyard plot.

As if he needed space to breathe and to ponder this, Anakin stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought the Naboo were more prone to burn their dead?"

"Old families. Old traditions." Now Ani was avoiding my eye. I didn't want to push him, but I wouldn't do this without him, and I sensed he was about to give me an answer I didn't want to hear— couldn't bear to hear.

{I've failed you, Senator…}

This time, I stepped even closer than before. I had to tilt my chin back to look up at him. He watched me warily, vulnerably.

"Anakin." With not a little daring, I placed a tender hand on one of his forearms. I poured all the pain, regret, and grief from the last several days into my expression and voice. "I need this. You know I do."

I watched the battle play out on his face— my safety versus the sincerity of my plea.

At last, either my final words or the look in my eyes seemed to get through to him, and I could tell he'd relented by the relaxation in his shoulders and slight nod of his dimpled chin. Yet his voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. "You stay right by my side. If I say we need to get out of there, we go."

Standing so close to him, I was almost distracted by his aromatic scent, but his cerulean eyes absorbed mine in insistence and I held them. It helped that at some point I forgot to breathe.

"No argument." I gazed up at him, my eyes filled with loyal promise. "I won't leave your side."

We stood there staring at each other for a timeless moment, not speaking. The birds in the trees around us proceeded with their songs, happy to no longer be interrupted by the harsher human voices. Finally, Anakin spoke first. "He's probably overheard us already, but if not…" He turned and gestured for me to lead the way indoors. "Let's go tell the holy man he's about to become a smuggler.'"

A/N:

1. As far as canon goes, I've taken the most creative liberty with the holy man's character. I was very interested in why Anakin and Padmé were keen to trust him— someone from her own planet, who arguably knew who she was— with their top-secret wedding. I wanted to establish a real relationship with her and him, and also his significance to the couple as a pair, because I don't buy that they'd trust any random holy man from Naboo with knowledge of their marriage. And imagining Vader's reaction when he learns their son's name— how that would splinter Anakin through even more— just continues to gut me.

2. Because (story-wise and emotionally) they flow one right into the other more so than any other pair of chapters before, the next two chapters will be posted minutes apart. They are both long and heavy, but I hope you'll be able to have time to read both in one sitting. Trigger warning for a funeral and grief/mourning.

3. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. They are a true delight to read.